road to Chakrata in the rains."

"Nay," said I; "it is from Solon to Kasauli that we are going. Look at
the black rocks."

"Bosh!" said the Professor. "This is a civilised country. Look at the
road, look at the railings--look at the gutters."

And as I hope never to go to Solon again, the road was cemented, the
railings were of iron mortised into granite blocks, and the gutters were
paved. 'Twas no wider than a hill-path, but if it had been the Viceroy's
pet promenade it could not have been better kept. There was no view.
That was why the Professor had taken his camera. We passed coolies
widening the road, and houses shut up and deserted, solid squat little
houses made of stone, with pretty names after our hill-station
custom--Townend, Craggylands, and the like--and at these things my heart
burned within me. Hong-Kong has no right to mix itself up with Mussoorie
in this fashion. We came to the meeting-place of the winds, eighteen
hundred feet above all the world, and saw forty miles of clouds. That
was the Peak--the great view-place of the island. A laundry on a washing
day would have been more interesting.

"Let us go down, Professor," said I, "and we'll get our money back. This
isn't a view."

We descended by the marvellous tramway, each pretending to be as little
upset as the other, and started in pursuit of a Chinese burying-ground.

"Go to the Happy Valley," said an expert. "The Happy Valley, where the
racecourse and the cemeteries are."

"It's Mussoorie," said the Professor. "I knew it all along."

It was Mussoorie, though we had to go through a half-mile of Portsmouth
Hard first. Soldiers grinned at us from the verandahs of their most
solid three-storied barracks; all the blue-jackets of all the China
squadron were congregated in the Royal Navy Seaman's Club, and they
beamed upon us. The bluejacket is a beautiful creature, and very
healthy, but ... I gave my heart to Thomas Atkins long ago, and him I
love.

By the way, how is it that a Highland regiment--the Argyll and
Southerlandshire for instance--get such good recruits? Do the kilt and
sporran bring in brawny youngsters of five-foot nine, and thirty-nine
inch round the chest? The Navy draws well-built men also. How is it that
Our infantry regiments fare so badly?

We came to the Happy Valley by way of a monument to certain dead
Englishmen. Such things cease to move emotion after a little while. They
are but the seed of the great harvest whereof ou